<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>One Too Many by COMPULSIVEGUTS</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25758388">One Too Many</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/COMPULSIVEGUTS/pseuds/COMPULSIVEGUTS'>COMPULSIVEGUTS</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Confession, Comfort, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Kinda gay ngl, Love Confessions, M/M, Old Fic, Sharing a Bed, Size Difference, Withdrawal, awkward cuddling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:53:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,850</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25758388</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/COMPULSIVEGUTS/pseuds/COMPULSIVEGUTS</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hiro's have a bad night. Cuddling ensues. Old shit.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fujisaki Chihiro/Hagakure Yasuhiro</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>One Too Many</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s always dark nowadays.<br/>The sun’s never in sight thanks to blocked up windows, iron shielding the ultimates from viewing the fucked world that was just outside. Shrouding their minds and keeping them contained as though they were circus monkey’s - though, admittedly, more glorified thanks to their remarkable and natural talents, putting them above others. Above the normal, dedicated fans and opportunities like no other. Most would think of it as a blessing - but for some it could be seen as a bountiful curse.<br/>One person in particular thought of himself as cursed, showered in a talent amongst devine skill and nature yet huddled into gross messes of debt and threats, along with this.. horrid game he found himself trapped in. Yasuhiro Hagakure - his name like a staple amongst those who shared interest and talent in seeing past the limitations of the present, looking into the future (however foggy that sight may be, however - seeing as divination isn’t exactly humanly possible, as far as the limits of the human mind can go) as though he were reading some oddly vague book. Cursed with the attention he didn’t want, cursed with horribly expensive habits that ate up his health and space- purchases often having ranged from a 10,000¥ crystal ball (that he didn’t need nor really used - it was more so for the selling point of his work, after all) to hundreds of yen worth of drugs annually. Marijuana, cocaine - hell, heroin or ketamine. Addiction was a horrible thing, making him feel so heavenly and so on top of everything yet making his already weak body more sickly.</p>
<p>It was an escape. That’s why he did it all - to escape. “Stress makes your hair’s gray, Hiro,” his mother would always remind - a strict finger in his face as she would blow smoke from between full lips. Yasuhiro always pleaded with her when he was young. To stop smoking - because that would make it better, right? No, it’s wrong. He learnt. Life was hard, rough.. so difficult to wrap around that the only way to make it any better is to ruin the very vessel you hold. He was young - but Yasuhiro realized soon that it was the only way he’d be able to live out a decent life. Decent enough to where he didn’t feel crushed in every moment despite the ache in his bones and the horrible withdrawal he’d face whenever he even tried to resume a “normal life” (pssh, what normal? He’s an ultimate - there is no “normal”, especially not in this twisted hell he was thrust into). Thin fingers danced on the purple cloth of the table in his room - it was cluttered with cards and papers and even a book he never bothered to sift through in the late hours where he lay awake.</p>
<p>The clairvoyant’s body felt as though it would break with the smallest motion, the room so cold yet so hot with no way of escaping it. The dull noises that his fingers made when they hit the table made him want to bash his head into a wall, but he couldn’t. He shouldn’t - someone’ll get hurt. Withdrawal was always so harsh, especially when you’re so addicted that it fuels you. That’s how Yasuhiro was - pathetically addicted to a dumb drug because he couldn’t handle the grasps of life. Even the smallest ponds were like waterfalls to him - leaving him to drown without any consolation or any willing glance because why would anyone pay attention to him of all people? He’s never been good with ladies  -  always turnt away because of how he acted or now he looked, always the smallest things pushing everyone away.<br/>Maybe he deserved it. </p>
<p>His knee bounces up and down, heel hitting the carpeted floor under his feet with his fingers drumming against the purple dressing on the round table. ‘If I draw the Fool, I’ll have some..’ He drawled quietly, voice like a ghost in the still air - holding nothing to it. No strings, no regret, not even a whisper of hesitation. His hands glide across the scattered cards, drawing them all together before closing his eyes and spreading them - no cheating, Hiro - before letting his hand move itself, pulling a single card from the arranged tarot deck. A cliff with a man - a traveler, blonde and holding a white rose while clad in green yellow and red garb. There was also a white dog… yes, this was The Fool. His mind is sluggish and it takes a minute to get himself up, heading over towards the shelves that sit not too far from the round table, more dusty hooks decorating the dark oak alongside a few ceramic pots and other odd objects. It’s a short shelf - so he has to crouch down to get the pot he needs, sitting on his heels as he grabs a very.. odd cat pot, custom made and decorated with reds and whites. It’s beautiful - precious and well cared for, safely tucked away on the shelf.<br/>He peaks open the lid and peers into the contents in the ceramics, and there’s what he expected -  powdery substance, almost like a sugar stored in tiny baggies. But it’s not. In fact, it’s something much worse - cocaine. Of course, he didn’t want it to come to this, but it was fate. Fate aligned for him to draw the Fool, so he must continue with his prophecy. Addiction. The Hagakure family was always prone to addiction, it seemed - from family he couldn’t name to his own detrimental addiction, it just seemed like it was bound to happen. The hands of fate drawing in making it so compelling. God. Yasuhiro was quick to remove two small bags and a dollar from the small wad of cash he kept before putting the cat ceramic back on the shelf and turning back for the table.</p>
<p>He’s stumbling from excitement as he scrambles to the singular chair at the purple clothed table, knocking over the small pile of boxes that sat by his bed. His feet brush through the carpet and it burns just a bit, but he’s too excited to care. Finally, some relief.. he couldn’t help but glance at the camera set in the room, dangling from the ceiling menacingly. It makes Yasuhiro uncomfortable, in that sense - anyone can be behind it. Anyone could be watching him and it’s unsettling, leaving fear in his mind as though it were a bullet in his skull. Driven deep, the feeling of eyes on his back - even when he pours one of the baggies out on the purple velvet. White clashes against the deep purple and it’s lovely, but Yasuhiro doesn’t waste his time on that, grabbing the card of the Fool and starting to cut up the lines. Folding them into nice lines so he could easily -</p>
<p>Knock knock.</p>
<p>Yasuhiro jumps at that sound, bending the card as he frantically smashes it into the table - messing up the lines as he was forced to scoop it up.. er. Push it off of the table and into the carpet in hope that whoever was at the door didn’t want to come in. But damn, there goes a good batch.. With a small huff, the clairvoyant forces himself to stand on battered knees, pulling his jacket over his shoulders before heading to the dorm’s door and pulling it open. He’s not clad in much, really - shirtless with some loose sweatpants, dreadlocks tied back for the sake of comfort. The person on the other side of the door is.. well - Chihiro Fujisaki, the ultimate programmer. Small; definitely a lot smaller than Yasuhiro was. Clad in simple pajamas, green with little bears on the pants. It was cute - exactly what Chihiro was, small and cute and the very definition of “soft”. When Yasuhiro spotted Chihiro, he couldn’t help but smile (though it was, to a certain extent, fake - he wasn’t able to get his load, and it made his skin crawl. Damn withdrawals) and fix his jacket slightly. When did it get so cold..? He couldn’t help but ponder as he drew it slightly more over his shoulders, trying not to get dragged by his thoughts as he had to be the cheery friend he always was.</p>
<p>“Heya Chi-chi!” Yasuhiro exclaims, words bubbly despite how gross he felt. Skin slicked with sweat and bags under his eyes, heavy as ever. It’s revolting and it left a disgusting taste in his mouth. Though it was, admittedly, calming when Chihiro offered a smile. It was a dainty one - small and sweet. The way his nose scrunched up slightly and how there was a little dimple in his right cheek.. it was the small things. It was sweet - yet he felt gross thinking about it. Silly Yasuhiro, silly silly silly. “Say, what brought you here on this loooovely night?”<br/>“Hey Hiro - um.. can I sleep with you tonight..? - everyone else is asleep and I don’t wanna wake anybody up!” God, Chihiro was always so hard to say no to.. so sweet and caring. The way he batted his eyelashes and spoke in such a honey tone voice.. it was so hard to resist. <br/>“Of course, dude! Step right on in - you can sleep on the bed, I can just.. sleep on the floor!” He has to smile as he steps to the side ever so slightly and holds the door a bit more open. His room’s an obvious mess to Chihiro - like a slap in the face thanks to the mere clutter of the room, posters pasted on the gross, shit colored walls. The posters ranged from palm reading to crystal balls, decorating the area that he was forced to reside in for what seemed to be the rest of eternity. </p>
<p>Chihiro steps in and slips off his slippers, looking around the mess of a room as Yasuhiro shuts the door. It’s more of a mess than his own, which was quite bland compared to the thematics of the taller man’s. Yasuhiro’s room was warm and quite cozy, though full of trash and holding an odd odor - though he brushes it off with a smile as he goes and sits on Yasuhiro’s bed. Though there’s only a thin white blanket and a singular pillow, it’s not the worst of the worst. It’s.. almost an awkward silence now. Yasuhiro’s eyes aren’t settling anywhere and are, instead, bouncing around the room almost anxiously. Even Chihiro could tell that withdrawal’s were hard on him - it wasn’t too hard to see the signs of them anyways, especially knowing Yasuhiro and his history with substances. They were close, after all - it wasn’t all that much of a secret that he was a druggie. “Um.. Hiro..?” the crossdresser’s voice was quiet, yet it drew loud and crashed against Hiro’s ears like it were waves crashing across a beach.<br/>“What is it, Chi Chi?” His hands shook as though they were fine leaves. It’s saddening to watch - how the fingers occasionally curled inwards with a twitch, how he looked so disgustingly tired.. it made Chihiro’s heart drop. Yasuhiro couldn’t even look straight at Chihiro.. he felt horrid, being so grossly pathetic around his only friend. His only friend. It’s a laughable title, really - the fact that he didn’t truly have anyone to cling to in times like this. He didn’t even have that when he was free, outside of the school. Little Yasuhiro - too dumb for a friend. Too weird for a friend. Too old for a friend. It was heartbreaking, but he had to put up with it throughout the years he’s been plaguing this accursed earth.</p>
<p>Now, Chihiro still stayed sat on the bed - quiet for a few moments. The air was thick and heavy and it felt like he’d suffocate on it. Words. Words, right - he had to talk. Swinging his legs, he fixed his shirt a bit (it was displaying just a bit of stomach, making his skin crawl from the exposure to air) by pulling it down before speaking. “Umm.. could you.. sleep in the bed with me?” He felt so awkward saying that - looking back at the twin-sized bed and remembering how tall the clairvoyant truly was. Maybe he should’ve taken back what he said - or, well. He did. Though the programmers meek voice was nearly impossible to hear from where Yasuhiro was standing. The taller man’s face lit up, rosy tints drawing into his tan cheeks - though to him it felt like a flame was arisen in his cheeks. In his poor, deprived heart.<br/>“Oh - um. Sure, Chi Chi!” Yasuhiro was awkward in his movements, shuffling his green-tinted jacket off of his broad shoulders and draping it over the small chair that sat by the table. He wasn’t the most fit nor was he the most attractive, shoulders broad compared to the thin hips that hardly held his pants up. He didn’t have a lot of muscle either, and if anything the opposite of that - thin and wiry, shoulder blades defined along with his hip bones, a few ribs, and his collarbone. It felt wrong being like this around Chihiro, but it was comfortable - though he wasn’t quite used to sleeping around another. An awkward laugh bubbling from his dry lips as he seated himself on the bed. “I um.. I usually sleep in my boxers but - haha -“<br/>“You can sleep in whatever, Hiro! I mean… it is your room, right?” Chihiro interrupts in a spurt of confidence, hands sat in his lap. “And I mean - it’s not like I’m one to judge!” The words sat still in the air as Yasuhiro thought.. though it wasn’t long at all before he nodded and lifted his hips from the thin, uncomfortable mattress and stripped his body of the pants (which, yes, did match the school jacket he wore earlier - it’s what he always wore, after all). Chihiro’s glance wears to the side as to not be impolite, though his face burns and it’s much more apparent because of how pale he was (thanks to both features from his race and from the nature of his Ultimate - programming wasn’t necessarily a thing you needed to go outside for), and thanks to how red his cheeks appeared,  it only served to embarrass him more.</p>
<p>“Alright, umm.. so, do you like - spoon or..? How are we doing this, Chi Chi?” He’s absolutely clueless when it comes to affections and closeness - it’s a wonder of why Chihiro even bothered to stay through Yasuhiro’s confusion.<br/>“Just - lay on your side! Then we can get comfy from there!” The programmer’s voice stayed soft - he was afraid that he wouldn’t be heard, but in the cold night air it rang like a bell. Yasuhiro was quick to lay on his side, though stiff like a board as he waited awkwardly. His brown eyes stayed fixed on the small man as he goes and grabs the white blanket. He pulls it over the two of them and lets himself curl up by the clairvoyant. One of his legs is to his chest, while the other is thrown over Yasuhiro (he hoped it wasn’t uncomfortable for the other), arms kept close to him in a way that was slightly uncomfortable but not completely. Yasuhiro’s still awkward through this, unsure of what to do with his hands or his legs- bending them up slightly so that way he could have his legs completely covered by the blanket.<br/>“Hey, um..” Yasuhiro starts - he was about to say something, but with what little self control he had, he kept quiet. It wasn’t long before a boney finger tapped the tip of Chihiro’s nose, and a girthy chuckle sounded from the clairvoyant.</p>
<p>“God, I love you.”</p>
<p>It was a spur of the moment choice of words, so quick to escape that Yasuhiro didn’t even notice them come through until it was late. His face lit up as though they were fireworks, and he sputtered out a few apologies - frantic and shaken, leaving Chihiro speechless. How could he respond to that? It was thick silence, the closeness drawing in silent shame and unease to Yasuhiro. The quiet remained until the programmer looped a bony arm around Yasuhiro’s shoulder, hanging off of it and drawing the blonde closer to the other. Small gestures fit Chihiro well, dressing him up so sweetly in a haze of calm. Yasuhiro’s arm rested  under Chihiro’s, resting at the smaller man’s middle back. Maybe he was just so worked up over nothing - no clear objection from the other, but no reassurance either.. it’s worrying. But maybe it was withdrawal, making the silence so unbearable. He can’t stay still, but he forces himself to, other arm slipping under the blonde’s torso and letting his hand intertwine itself with the other and sit at the lower portion of his back. Silence is thick. Like blood. That thought fills Yasuhiro’s head but he has to suppress it when he hears Chihiro reply.</p>
<p>“Love you too..”</p>
<p>It’s so calm, after that. Maybe the blonde passed out against him, but it’s a nice sense of calm.</p>
<p>Maybe he could have good fortune.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>